you don’t really need to know how nursemyra’s mind works but in my own defence I came upon this site while trying to remember the lyrics to an old elvis costello song.

It is important to note that not all sexual partners enjoy the feeling of genital beads.

maybe they might like to add that not all sexual partners enjoy the associated look either. but I felt a strange attraction to the single star studded variety further down the page. sometimes less is more. I’ve memorised the procedure from the helpful photographs so any boys out there who want to freshen up their look are welcome to drop by the Gimcrack tomorrow. nursemyra will be on duty from 9:00 am.

back in the good old days before nurse myra knew of the Gimcrack’s existence, she used to work in the crazy world of fashion. The whipcracker at this establishment was Tree, a cocaine-fuelled casanova with a not very bright but volatile wife and a girlfriend whose husband was currently serving gaol time for murder. Tree liked to live on the edge.

we shared an office which was little more than a den of iniquity strewn with the accoutrements of drug taking and disciplinarian sex. It was almost as much fun as working at the Gimcrack but with the added thrill of the medications being illegal. Tree employed enough abstemious staff to keep the business up and running between his bouts of activity and rehab but it was quite a challenge when he was at his most out of control.

back in the days when people didn’t know or care that their high fashion garments were produced by badly paid sweat shop workers, Tree outsourced manufacturing to three or four canny asians who constantly undercut each other’s tenders in a desperate bid for contracts. Tree was a late payer who used a variety of excuses to avoid parting with cash until weeks past the agreed date, mostly because all the cash he had was going up his nose or into the hands of his various women.

the day of reckoning was always going to come, it was just a matter of when. Mr. Chin was getting tired of the same old excuses and had taken to camping outside the showroom door during Tree’s absence so as to be first in line if he was cashed up. this particular morning, he was waiting as my bleary eyed boss stumbled out of the lift nursing the usual hangover.

Mr Chin followed him to our office, all the while demanding money. Tree’s mutters of “not now not now” were ignored so he spun round to face Chin and screamed “what do you want? the shirt off my back?” Given the state of his clothes that was highly unlikely but Tree tore it off and threw it across the room followed by his watch, shoes, socks, belt and trousers. when he was down to his pink elephant print boxers there was a moment’s silence while they glared at each other in a standoff.

the staff knew Tree kept his cash in a pocket sewn into his boxers but did Mr. Chin? “you want these too? you want to leave me with nothing?” Tree tried to outstare Chin but it wasn’t working. he dropped the shorts and we all looked. swollen to twice its normal size with balls like rotten grapefruit his cock was completely black. Chin’s composure cracked as he backed out of the office and into the lift.

Turns out Tree was servicing the mistress but missed both docks and crashed into her coccyx with blood vessel breaking results. the male staff all averted their eyes in horror but nursemyra was fascinated. “what’ll I tell my wife?” was Tree’s main concern.

an image of his gullible blonde bimbo flashed through my mind. “why don’t you tell her you broke your baculum in a squash game?”

he did. and she bought it. the moral to this story is: if you’re going to cheat then wear your glasses. and if you need more time to settle your bills, a broken boner always speaks louder than boxers full of cash.

most of you non medical folk know the basic mechanism of conception right? erect male loads his gun, inserts the barrel in nearby female and fires off a round sending several hundred million soldiers into the battlefield.

but not all enlistees are equal. first we have the blockers, sluggardly little fellows with coiled tails and large heads, maybe even 3 or 4 heads. their job is simply to block the path taken by any other man’s sperm who may try and slip past. such things do happen. not at the Gimcrack of course.

the comparatively athletic killer sperm have a more lethal mission. they are not content to laze around the cervical couch like bags of sand. instead they roam the dance floor searching for infiltrators. any other sperm they encounter better be from the same gun or it’s open warfare. with head to head combat.

the generals of this army are of course the egg-getters. they do look very similar to their killing cousins but their heads are slightly more swollen. rank tends to have that effect. there’s only about 1 million of the egg-getters in any round of ammmunition. together with the killers they pour through the defences in waves, heading straight for the oviduct and cervical crypts where they settle down to await developments.

if the aforementioned female releases an egg anytime in the next few days our patient 4 star General makes his move. 9 months later you get a baby.

unless you’re a member of the good doctor’s fan club. there’s sex, violence and romance aplenty at the gimcrack but we’ve yet to celebrate a geriatric pregnancy. time will tell.

this is the initial instruction in a recipe for ambergris pudding, obviously a popular aphrodisiac in the 16th century that could prove equally so at the Gimcrack. for the jugulaterly challenged among us, Urbain Dubois* offered a more palatable apple dumpling that could be recreated without the need to unjoint a pig though I’m not sure how adept I’d be at soldering paste.

Yet it was A Learned Dissertation on the Dumpling (its Dignity, Antiquity and Excellence) that finally caught my eye. 18th century dumplings were wrapped around a variety of birds, all prepared in their own special way. Accomplisht Ladies or their servants were instructed to ‘lift that swan, rear that goose, unbrace that mallard, wing that partridge or allay that pheasant’

hmmm… sounds like a lot of work. and how catastrophic might it be if you accidently unbraced the partridge or winged the goose. could your goose still be cooked?

I made a very plain rice pudding with raisins soaked in walnut liquor. it’s aphrodisiacal qualities have yet to be ascertained but thankfully no musk deer were filleted in the process.

I came across an ad for Slimwaist in a magazine today. nursemyra had never heard of this product before but the headline “go from flab to fab in 55 minutes while watching tv” was eye catching enough to make me pause.

Adro, winner of The Biggest Loser 2006 endorses it whole heartedly “it will help you get back to the beach and back into that dress in no time at all”. a fine objective if you’re a woman I suppose but I hope Adro’s not going to be promoting it in a frock.

so how does it work? “it’s as simple as rubbing sunscreen and applying a glad wrap like film then letting your body’s reaction do the rest. In 55 minutes your waist will have shrunk by 1 to 3 centimetres. it works by using a perfect combination of essential oils. their almost magical effect will ease intestinal pressure from the inside, tonify your abdominal muscles and burn fat reserves from below the skin. your friends and your husband need it to look dazzling this summer”

well at $149.00 it’s a steal as for your hard earned cash you receive “the essential oil complex, the slimwaist special gel, an orange texture like skin gel and hypoallergenic film.” so you rub in some magic oil, tie yourself up in gladwrap and settle down for an hour of The Footy Show. “And Voila your (sic) paparazzi-ready at the beach this summer”

that’s all well and good though it presumes (a) I have a husband and (b) I spend time on the beach waiting for the paparazzi to notice how tonified I am now that my intestinal pressure has been relieved by watching tv.

Adro? I want you to know I’m thinking it over. the gimcrack will get back to you. can we have a discount if we use our own gladwrap?